Ebony Rain
by Bharune
Summary: Kjurn. Sora was just a normal aristocratic boy, unable to fathom the depth of the human world much less the divine. But then he meets an extraordinary slave...and begins to question everything society taught him. AU [Riku x Sora, Xehanort x Riku later]
1. Sublime Servile

**Disclaimer:** I do not own KH, KHII, or any of the characters. Some of the original chars and plot ideas are mine, but that's the extent of it, lol. I just play god with their tragic fates and smexy bodies, haha!

A/N: Warning...I'm not sure what all this story is going to contain, I'm sorta making it up as I go along. Shounen-ai/Yaoi, of course, and most likely NC as well. The first chapter is safe, though, and I'll put appropriate warnings up as I write the chapters. Enjoy!

Note: Any good, first person writer want to beta? I'm not used to writing in first person, so I think it seems a little awkward in some places...

4/07/07: Rewrote the first chapter, I think it's a _lot _better than the original. I plan to rewrite the other three chapters, too, then I'll start adding in the new ones. Hope you guys like it!

6/07/07: Fixed up the 'Xaldin' issue. Gomen again!

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**Ebony Rain**

_I: Sublime Servile_

How pretty they were, wrapped in flowing scarlet and azure, shimmering with hems of gold and silver. The ladies were kissed by iridescent pearls and blood rubies, the males with their diamonds and earthly emeralds. Velvet seemed the current trend, but occasionally the smooth sheen of silk or satin slithered amongst the thick fashion. Velvet was what I had donned, following the example of my peers, dyed a beautiful vermillion and lined with intricate designs of golden fancy. Unlike most of the others, however, I didn't look like I had just raided a dragon's hoard -- jewelry was not really my thing. Save that for the females.

I have enough problems reinforcing my masculinity, thank you.

Okay, so I have a small build. And a somewhat delicate frame. Does that automatically make someone feminine? No, I think not. What gets me is how girls are attracted to _boys_ that look like _females_.

What's with that? You don't see us squealing over girls that are all big and muscular and…eh. I don't get it.

Why am I even thinking about this? Because I'm bored as hell, I hate these political gatherings.

A sigh emitted from my lips to show my displeasure. How dare this happen? I'm the son of the High Count of Raelius; someone should be making sure I'm entertained. Hey -- you. Yes, you over there -- get over here and entertain me. Now. Dance or something.

As if I could ever be that pompish...sometimes I don't think I'm cut out for this aristocracy stuff, you know? It's all fake smiles, thick cosmetics, insincere prattle...plus you never know which ambitious bastard is going to take a blow at you next, right? At least, that's what my dad thinks, but I'm not really paranoid. Who'd want to harm little ol' me? People just tell me how adorable I look and how I'm such a good boy…

C'mon, people, I'm not a kid. I already have sixteen years…

I scanned my cerulean eyes over those lingering nearest, looking for anything interesting. Adult. Adult. Adult. Whoa, ancient. Shouldn't you be pushing daisies by now, gramps? Geez, not a single person my age. Normally Kairi was here to keep me company, but tonight I didn't even have her to distract me from this boredom. It's excruciating, really. I think my head might explode.

Have to play it cool, though. This was a party in my father's honor -- who was I to stir up trouble for my own amusement? I wonder if people don't get tired of hearing about my father's successful campaigns in the north, though…I guess they're just grateful he's ridding us of those vile Sorthish. Treacherous wolves, the lot of them, turning their backs on our beloved god to follow the dark goddess. They should be exterminated for their evil, right?

Of course. It was the divine purpose of Solastria, our country. And my father was the foremost avenger of Khaan, ripping through Sorthish frontiers under the banner of Raelius and the solar deity. I just hope he doesn't wipe them _all_ out.

Leave some for me, too, y'know? One day I'll be the guest of honor at parties just like this, and people will come from all over Kjurn to praise my heroic deeds. I will vanquish the Sorthish phantasms and reclaim the northern territory for the glory of Solastria!

Or something.

I sighed again, plopping down in a plush armchair and watching the dark rainbows of nobles drift to and fro. It became painfully clear that no one was going to rescue me from the dark depths of boredom, so I would just have to keep myself occupied with my own thoughts.

Hey, lady, if you tilt your nose up any further you might break your neck. I wonder if that guy over there knows everyone can tell his diamonds are totally fake? And what is with that woman's hat? That bird does _not_ look like it passes manor hygiene standards.

…Not very entertaining.

I emptied my drink and instantly a slave moved to refill the goblet, handling the ornate jug with practiced ease. She wore a decorative black masque that glittered in the light, like all slaves were required to do during social events, but I recognized her incredibly long, red hair instantly. It was pulled up into a ponytail to show off the ebony collar fitted around her neck, displaying a series of golden studs. I found myself counting them.

Seven. It's always been seven, ever since as long as I could remember, but I always counted anyway. Habit, I guess, though I didn't really care how many studs she had. It was just something people did, and society sometimes forces these quirks on us without our consent or even knowing...

Seven studs. I could see the three empty grooves where the others had once been.

"Thanks, Anathasia," I said once my glass was filled with the sweet, crimson wine, and offered her a smile. She's been my father's head slave ever since I was little, so we're on familiar terms. She often took care of me while he was away, though she had only been a teenager herself at the time. The woman turned her glittering emerald eyes to meet my gaze and responded with a playful grin.

"Of course, young master."

You don't have to call me that, you know, Anathasia. You're my father's slave -- not mine. Why can't you just call me 'Sora'? Not enough people do that anymore...

The red-haired slave straightened and moved on to attend to the needs of the other guests, granting me a wink before she turned completely away. She was a woman in her mid-twentieth year, blessed with a voluptuous body and a personality as vibrant as her hair. Despite the fact that she's a slave and, of course, inferior, I sometimes feel she's almost like...family…

Don't tell anyone I said that.

Maybe it's because I've known her since I was little and had always looked up to her, but I don't really feel superior to her. And she probably knows more about me than my own father.

Speak of the devil.

I shifted my focus to the man in question, finding him sitting on a divan across the room, conversing with those nearest. He wasn't my real father, but…he took me in when my parents died, so the least I could do was treat him as if he were. It created a better political image, anyway.

It wasn't as though I remembered my real father.

I guess I'm pretty lucky, though -- my adoptive father was the High Count of Raelius, the second-largest province of Solastria. He was famous, wealthy, successful...but other than that, I didn't really know him that well. He's not really the family type, so we never do anything together, and...even when he's home I rarely see him. I'll admit, this depressed me a little at first, but now I'm fine with it. I no longer felt the need to connect with him.

He lifted a gloved hand to brush a few tresses of pale blonde from his handsome face, then shifted his crystalline gaze to the door, almost expectantly. As if on some tacit cue, the doors swung open and a valet appeared, introducing Commander Xaldin. He was a familiar face around the manor, as all Solastria's commanders were, but I didn't really know the man personally. Like all commanders, he was also a count -- over the province of Mnomet -- but he preferred his military title. I guess it just sounded more manly and such. Xaldin was legendary among the people, though; they had dubbed him the 'Whirlwind Lancer'.

The commander entered the room in his traditional black cloak, stopping before my father's divan and bowing respectfully.

"Comte de Raelius," Xaldin greeted, rising. It was then that I noticed a smaller figure behind him, one that was cloaked as well and completely concealed. "I've returned from my expedition with a gift of allegiance."

I couldn't help but frown -- another slave? We already had enough to put the local brothel to shame, it was becoming quite bothersome. Hadn't Xaldin been present at the last ball? The Count of Estirin had brought my father a pretty Eight-studded slave, but my father refused her. The Count of Estirin, needless to say, had not been happy at all, but...I was glad for it. I really didn't need more women fussing over me.

And an Eight was pretty honorable, too -- I knew enough about slaves to appreciate that. Anathasia was the most valuable slave in the manor, and she was only a Seven.

The chatter of the guests gradually dissipated as everyone turned their attentions to Xaldin and the count. Everyone was wondering…what had the commander brought for him? What kind of slave could lie beneath that heavy cloak? Why did the commander think his gift was better than the Comte de Estirin's Eight, that the lord Xehanort would accept it?

Truthfully, I'm not usually interested in such things. I already knew what this slave would look like – curvaceous and seductive, with breasts the size of my head and clad in little more than a tablecloth. Those were the kind my fathered preferred, after all. I guess it was better than the little girls some of the other aristocrats kept as collared slaves, but…if you've seen one, you've seen them all, really.

From where I was sitting I could only see the profiles of my father, the commander, and the slave, and I was surprised that no sign of large breasts was evident beneath the slave's heavy cloak. The material was loose around her frame, it was true, but if she wasn't big-busted it meant the commander had brought something different for my father this time.

Admittedly, I was curious.

Commander Xaldin shifted, and then continued, watching the count's reaction carefully. I could tell he was nervous. Must be _really_ different, then; he's not sure how my father will react.

"The last remaining blood of the northern aristocracy, carefully preserved for whatever usage your lordship may see fit," the commander continued. I saw my father quirk a brow in curiosity, and I shifted a little closer in my seat. A slave from the north? How exotic! I had only heard rumors of the races living there.

They were called 'Phantasms'. Subhumans.

Apparently I wasn't the only one excited -- talk immediately erupted from the guests. All the northerners were supposed to be dead, but now they'd all get to see one before their very eyes! A real Sorthish aristocrat, here in Solastria!

Wait…they had an aristocracy in Sorthiel? How had uneducated barbarians managed that?

Realizing he had the lord's interest, Commander Xaldin stepped aside with an almost imperceptible smirk and gestured to the cloaked figure. My father rose from the crimson divan he had been seated on and stepped forward, but, instead of simply pushing the hood back like everyone had expected, he began to carefully untie the cloak. Appetizers and wine goblets lay forgotten as all those present watched intently, silent once more, waiting to see what filthy Phantasm dared hope to become the slave of their beloved count.

The cloak fell to the floor and instant chatter swept over the room -- a male! A _collared _male! I always thought females were collared and males were laborers, but not this one. And he was definitely male, his chest was completely exposed, all he wore were pants of tight black leather, which contrasted beautifully with his pale, unmarred flesh. But what attracted my attention most...was his hair.

It was the most ethereal silver; even from the slight distance it seemed to be composed of perfect strands of silk. Brushing his shoulders and bare back, it looked like splintered moonlight -- strangely fitting for a Phantasm.

Did all of them have hair like that?

Even as a male, he certainly was appealing. Phantasms...I always pictured them as hideous. Mutated, somehow, or even anamorphic. After all, they were barbarians who had turned their backs on humans and adopted the traits of animals. But this boy...

I noticed that a blindfold of black cloth was wrapped around the young male's eyes, and wondered why. My father didn't seem too concerned by this, however, and paid it no attention as he began his inspections. The slave stood straight, his posture strangely dignified, and didn't flinch or move when my father touched his hair. I knew he was checking to see how clean it was. Next, my father touched the collar to see how tightly it clasped his neck, and I could tell there was no spare room between the ebony leather and the slave's soft skin. That probably meant the slavers had experienced some trouble trying to control him. Why did the count seem amused by that?

"Rather bold of you, to bring me a male." My father said to the commander, but kept his attention on the gift, running gloved fingers down the slave's chest and stomach. The Phantasm was slender but well toned, his abdomen flat, and I could see that my father was pleased. Yet, for some reason, I felt uneasy with this…was it because I didn't like the idea of a Phantasm living in the manor? Or perhaps because he was so young? Or because he _was_ really...well...

...Beautiful.

"Years?" My father inquired.

"Seventeen, Lord Xehanort." Commander Xaldin answered easily.

The slave only had seventeen years? Most had at least twenty, but this Phantasm...he had only one more year than I did...

"Hold up your hair and turn." My father's voice left no room for disobedience, and the slave only hesitated for a split second before doing as he was told. I realized the purpose of the command was so my father could count the missing studs from the collar. When the Phantasm lifted his hands to obey, I noticed curiously that he had thick bands of black leather wrapping around each wrist, both sporting metal rings in the front.

Once more a wave of murmurs washed over the spectators -- all ten silver studs were present! I didn't know _exactly _what that meant, but I did know Tens were the most valuable slaves, the rarest.

And they didn't stay Tens for long.

My father gave a nod of acceptance, and enthusiastic applause responded from the guests. That was customary -- they were congratulating the commander on pleasing his lord. But I couldn't take my eyes off the slave long enough to even do that.

He didn't look like a barbarian...

Once the applause died down, attentions shifted back to my father and, having seen this a hundred times already, I knew he was about to name the slave. It was tradition; even if the slave had belonged to a former owner, the new one would give it a different name to represent a separate life.

"Very well," my father started once the room was silent again. "Your new name shall be—"

"My name," the slave cut in darkly, tilting his head up slightly in defiance, "is Riku."

Noise erupted once again, some spectators horrified or enraged at a Phantasm talking disrespectfully towards one of them, and they were all waiting to see how my father would react. I was surprised myself; I had never seen such audacity from a slave -- not towards someone as powerful as my father.

My father seemed to be struggling between retribution and indulgence, but he apparently decided compliance would be better in front of the guests than conflict.

"Riku, then," he responded with an amused chuckle, then made a beckoning motion with his hand. I saw Anathasia step forward and talk with him briefly, but try as I might I couldn't hear what they were saying. After a moment, though, Anathasia nodded and touched the Phantasm on the arm lightly, telling him something and leading him away from the hall. My father watched them depart...and suddenly I felt uneasy again.

But also excited, I couldn't wait to learn more about the mysterious northerner.

"Please, continue," my father instructed the guests, and the masked slaves moved forward to refill everyone's goblets.

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A/N: Yep…this is it, the first chapter. It's actually longer than I expected it to be, but that's good I think. Yes, I know I described Xehanort as having blonde hair and blue eyes, I did it purposely so please don't comment about it being inaccurate. I wanted to make him more normal to accentuate Riku as an oddity, and it's not such a far cry to imagine him as having pale blonde locks, he's still just as pretty right? I think Sora may be a little OC, but hopefully that'll change once he gets some dialogue in. 

Please review! I don't care about flames, but constructive criticism will get you a lot further. I have a tendency not to finish things, so I'm counting on reviews to motivate me to carry on! Also, I'm sorry if it's a little confusing, it'll start to make sense as I go along. And it's 4am, so if anything sounds strange in the story please leave a comment and I'll fix it up later.

--Bharune


	2. Lessons Learned

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Don't sue. -.-

A/N: No real warnings for this chapter, nothing major

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**Ebony Rain**

_II: Lessons Learned_

"Is he in?" I asked the guards stationed outside my father's room. It was late, all the guests had long ago returned to their comfortable down beds and I was looking forward to hitting my own. I could feel the effects of the heavy wine causing the room to waver, and I wondered how many times Anathasia had filled my goblet.

"Yes, young master," the bulky guard responded in his deep voice. "And the slave has already been brought in."

The slave?

"My father told me to come tonight; do you know what's going on?"

The guard shook his head, but unlocked and opened the door for me. When I stepped in, he pulled it closed and bolted it.

"Sir," I greeted respectfully when I saw my father, seated on a velvet couch. "Is there something you need?"

Various candles lit my father's sitting room elegantly, giving it a warm, comfortable glow. The cushions of burgundy were welcoming, and the polished oak furniture reflected the light of the dancing fire, seated lovingly in the hearth. The slave the guard had mentioned turned out to be the Phantasm, who was standing in front of my father. I appeared to have interrupted a conversation.

My father rose and beckoned me to take his place on the couch, which I did. Sitting directly in front of the slave, I could see him much better...he really was beautiful; I've never even seen even a woman that could compare.

Despite everything I was taught about the northerners...I couldn't hate him.

"What do you know about…Phantasms?" My father asked me, standing behind the slave and running his fingers lightly along the boy's bare shoulder. I shifted on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Only what…everyone knows…"

The lord moved back swiftly, seizing something off the desk and lashing it across the slave's back. With a startled cry, the boy stumbled forward, falling to his knees, and I instantly moved to help him. No sooner had I touched his arm, however, than he jerked from my grasp.

"Fa-Father!" I exclaimed, turning my wide eyes towards the man, who held a vicious whip in one hand. "Wh-what…?"

"Take a look." He answered calmly, stepping towards the Phantasm and I. "What do you see?"

"What…?" I shifted my gaze back to the boy, who was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. This was the first time I had seen him up close, I was almost mesmerized by—

"Look." My father cut into my thoughts, touching the fresh wound on the boy's back. I saw him wince a little at the contact, but my father didn't seem to notice. He held up his fingers, and I could see a small bit of crimson staining the pale flesh.

"It's…blood…" I said dumbly, not understanding the point of this exercise. My father's crystalline eyes narrowed in that slightly exasperated look, the look that asked if he had to spell it out for me.

Another silent moment and I understood.

"It's…red!" My father nodded at my comprehension. "But...I've always heard that Phantasms have blue blood."

I heard the slave scoff softly beside me, and I shot him an indignant look – one that he couldn't see with the blindfold. My father ignored that and continued.

"They bleed the same blood as us, Sora, never be afraid of them. They are just as mortal."

I looked back at the slave, studying him a little more closely. He was a Phantasm…a northerner…a subhuman…but he _was _human. Same as me…

"But…why does it matter?" I questioned, not taking my eyes off the other boy. "I mean…all the northerners are dead, aren't they?"

I saw the slave start a little as if this information was new to him, but I looked up at my father, still sitting on the floor next to the boy.

"Not by a long shot, Sora." He answered smoothly, chuckling a little. "There are three full cities we have yet to find."

Three full cities! How come no one seemed to know?

"Everyone important is aware." My father continued, as if reading my thoughts. "It's easier on the public if they continue to believe all the Phantasms are gone. But if you ever need to deal with one, you need to be prepared."

Prepared? I knew I would one day inherit Raelius, and with it Raelius' army, but…

"I guarantee you, a Phantasm will be faster, stronger, and more skilled than anyone in the Solastrian military, save the legendary generals themselves." The lord grabbed his slave by the wrist and pulled him up, away from me, only to slam him against the opposite wall and force him back to his knees. I could hear the boy struggle a bit and I had the strongest desire to aid him – anything – but…

"Do you know their weakness is?" He asked, and I rose shakily to my feet. "Do you know how to cause the most damage?"

Unable to find my voice, I shook my head a little.

"Fire." Still gripping the boy's wrist, my father pulled his hand over the fire in the hearth, letting the flames lick the sensitive skin, and the slave released a painful cry, fighting to pull his hand back.

"S-stop!" I yelled, stepping towards them, but hesitated when my father turned his cold eyes towards me. "…I…I get it. You don't have to show me…"

Fire.

I saw the lord smile but he released the slave all the same, and the boy jerked his arm back, cradling it against his chest.

"You know how it feels to be burned, don't you, Sora?" Unconsciously, I rubbed my own hand a little, but nodded slightly when my father spoke. "For a Phantasm, it's much worse."

Low tolerance for heat…

"Let's move on to a different subject," my father said, much to my relief, and stood, bringing the slave up with him. It was then, basking in the firelight, that I noticed the boy's collar had been altered slightly. A silver ring now adorned the front – which my father used to pull him up – and the silver studs had been replaced by ten, finely cut diamonds that glittered enticingly. "You're almost old enough to have slaves, but do you know how to handle one?"

I shifted once more in discomfort. Well…what was there to know? All I had to do is give them commands…

He pulled the Phantasm against him, stroking the collar lovingly. "Do you know how a slave loses a stud?"

"What?" I considered the question, but having grown up around slaves I never really gave it much thought. I knew the studs represented their individual value, but…

The slave seemed to know more than I did, he struggled harshly against the lord. However, there was little doubt that my father was the stronger one, and he shoved the boy down against the plush couch, straddling his hips and fighting to restrain his hands.

I was completely stunned, trying to figure out what to do. My instincts said this was wrong, it had to be wrong! But my mind said…

This boy…he was my father's slave. How could I argue with that?

"Fa-Father…!"

"If you're uncomfortable, Sora, you may leave." He said nonchalantly, kissing the writhing boy's neck gently. For a moment, I could do nothing. I wanted to leave…to go to bed…to forget the look on the slave's beautiful face. And yet…

I couldn't leave him here alone.

"Then make yourself useful," the lord snapped, growing slightly impatient. "Hold his wrists."

I moved to obey without thinking, standing at the head of the couch and taking the boy's wrists firmly. I wanted to protest, but…if I did, my father would simply kick me out of the room and carry on…

I guess I thought, if I stayed, I could find a way to make things better.

The slave continued to writhe and fight, snarling threats in a strange tongue, but I could hear – _feel _– the boy's growing panic. The struggling seemed only to invigorate my father, whose hands trailed slowly down the slave's stomach, already slick with sweat, and moved to toy with the clasp of the leather pants.

I averted my gaze at this point, feeling very sick.

Suddenly, as if answering both the slave's and my own silent prayers, a heavy rapping emitted from the other side of the oaken door.

"M'lord," one of the guards called gruffly, "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but Commander Xaldin has returned unexpectedly. There seems to be a problem, he requests your immediate presence in the main hall."

Father sat up, seeming to consider this, but responded with a 'very well'. I let out an audible breath and he gave me a dark look, but he nevertheless straightened his elaborate attire and headed to the door.

Once his footsteps had completely receded I helped the shaky slave up, keeping a firm grip on the boy's uninjured hand. "He's gone – let get out of here before he comes back."

There was a hesitant moment, then the Phantasm questioned, "….where?"

"Anywhere that's not here," I answered easily, pulling him up a little and leading him towards the door. "Does anything else matter?"

Apparently he decided my company was preferable to my father's, because he didn't argue as I guided him through various halls. It was late and they were dimly lit, but I knew this place like the back of my hand. Ascending a set of stone stairs, I decided to take him to my private room – just in case my father decided to go looking for him.

But I had the sinking feeling I was only delaying the inevitable. What bothered me so much about this particular slave? Was it because…he was just like me? The same age…both aristocrats in our respective countries…

"Hey…" I said to the boy, slowing my pace when we reached the upper corridor and releasing his hand. "Your name…is Riku, right?"

He paused again, as if trying to figure out whether or not I was playing some game with him, then gave a slight nod. I regarded him for a long moment, amazed that he could move around so well with that blindfold on.

Turning my attention back to the path, I smiled a little. "I'm Sora."

Silence reigned, but I didn't feel it was too uncomfortable. It was really uncanny, but…there was something strangely natural about the other boy's presence. Like…we had known each other for a long time, and I was looking forward to learning more about this mysterious Phantasm.

Riku.

"Just a little further," I said, taking his hand again to lead him up a flight of steep, curving stairs. He didn't protest, just followed silently, his hand strangely cool in mine.

"To where?" He asked, and I could tell he was relaxing in my company.

"To my tower," I responded simply, pushing open the door at the top of the stairs. "I don't think anyone even knows it's here except Anathasia."

No one will find us tonight.

Riku stopped suddenly, pulling his hand free. "Tower?" He questioned suspiciously.

I sighed and grabbed his hand again. "I'm not going to do anything to you," I said with a hint of indignation. "Besides, you could probably overpower me if you wanted to anyway."

Realizing the truth of my words, he followed me the rest of the way to the room without much reluctance.

Once at the end of yet another hall, this one lit by nothing but the occasional stream of moonlight, I pushed back a heavy tapestry and opened a wooden door, pulling Riku inside with me.

The semi-circular room was lovingly decorated with furnishings of crimson and gold, a warm fireplace at one end and a set of plush armchairs placed around an oak table that sported a checkered playing board. A medium-sized, four poster bed sat opposite, bedded with satin sheets and down blankets.

"This is my favorite room in the manor," I said, flopping down in one of the chairs. The fire was fresh in the hearth, and I wondered how Anathasia knew I was going to be here this evening. "I come here when I don't want anyone to find me."

Having already one hand on the arm of the other chair, Riku also sat down, though not as casually. I couldn't blame him for being tense, considering everything that was happening.

"Why are you…?" He started to ask, but seemed to have trouble voicing what he wanted to say. "I'm a…"

"You're the same as me." I cut in with a small smile, picking up an ivory piece from the game board and playing with it a little. "I mean, just because you're a Phant—"

I bit my lip; 'Phantasm' was such a derogatory term.

"Just because you're Sorthish…we're both humans, right?"

Riku paused, digesting my words. "…most Sols don't think so."

"Well...I think so. And I realized...if Sorthiens ever took Raelius, I could be in the same position as you."

A captive for my enemies. The very thought made me shudder.

"We don't keep slaves in Sorthiel." The boy replied simply. "War prisoners are fed to the wolves."

Yummy. I had heard about the ferocious Sorthish wolves, and the thought was not pleasant at all. Then again, it was probably merciful compared to what we did with our prisoners. It made me question…who the real barbarians were.

There was another moment of the only noise being the crackling hearth, then I finally asked something that had been poking my curiosity ever since the boy arrived.

"Why do you wear that cloth? Are you…blind?"

I could see the faintest glimmer of a smile on Riku's lips, and he shook his head. "No, but my eyes are…sensitive to the light."

Without even giving it a second thought I jumped up, picking up the bucket of water left by the hearth and dousing the flames, extinguishing them completely. The smoldering logs hissed in protest, but the room was instantly cloaked in darkness. Once my own eyes adjusted, though, I saw that the moonlight flowing in from the large window was ample light on its own.

"There." I said, walking back to Riku and stopping in front of his chair. "It's dark now so it should be okay, right?"

He didn't respond, but I leaned down a little to untie the cloth. I could see him shifting…as if he was nervous.

But about what?

The black blindfold dropped to the floor but Riku didn't open his eyes right away. Touching his chin, I tilted his head up so I could get a better look, then smiled a little. His expression was blank, as usual when I looked at him, but he appeared incredibly serene in the moonlight. "Okay, let's see them."

Slowly, his eyes opened. At first they looked unseeing, as if he really _was_ blind, but they slowly focused.

Once more, I was amazed. His irises…they were the most beautiful I had ever seen. No exaggeration, either – they were the most indescribable shade of sea-green, and in the moonlight…they seemed to emit their own luminance, like the eyes of a cat.

I stepped back, giving him space to explore the room. The night had robbed it of almost all color, transforming the rich crimson into the darkest blood, but he didn't seem any less interested in the trappings or the ornate paintings. I watched him, transfixed, and came to the realization that Riku had been deprived of his sight for longer than a couple of days.

"How long…has it been?"

He knew what I meant, but he still paused a little, not turning his attention from a stone bust resting on my mantle. "…I think…about three…"

Three…?

"Months!" I half-exclaimed, half-questioned incredulously, and he turned to look at me, giving me another faint, enigmatic smile.

No, that was wrong.

"Three…years…?" I sank to the floor in disbelief. Three years…without seeing anything, even though his eyes were perfectly fine… "Why…?"

I watched him as he walked around the room, considering how to answer my question.

"During the first battle of the war, my brother and I were captured by Commander Xaldin." He explained softly, stepping towards me. He tried to keep his voice indifferent, but I could detect the note of deep melancholy. "Xaldin threw us in prison, he thought our status would make us valuable hostages. Apparently he was wrong, I didn't see him again until just a couple weeks ago."

I took all this in slowly, nodding a little for him to continue.

"I think he forgot I was there…but when passing by my cage, decided I would make a nice gift for your father." His voice darkened noticeably, and I saw his eyes narrow a bit. I was an empathic person by nature, but I couldn't help feeling a particularly strong sense of despair for Riku.

And anger.

"He's not my father," I snapped, more harshly than I meant. I didn't mean it to come out like that, but…after tonight, I didn't want Riku to associate me so closely with that man. Riku raised a brow in curiosity and I stood up, realizing how late it was and suddenly feeling very tired. And more than a little embarrassed for my sudden outburst.

"I mean…" Pacing the room a little, I pulled off my fancy overcoat and vest and draped them over the back of one of the chairs. "My parents died when I was an infant, and Xehanort adopted me."

I don't even think we share the same blood…

Riku regarded me for a silent moment and I felt strangely self-conscious, fumbling with the buttons of my ruffled dress shirt. I hated these things, they were so itchy and uncomfortable. I could've sworn they were designed to make formal occasions as torturous as possible...

"That explains why you two are nothing alike."

"What?" I voiced, still fighting a losing battle with the intricate buttons, but I realized he was right. Xehanort and I had little, if anything, in common.

The Sorthien sighed a little and walked over to me, taking the button from my fingers and deftly unclasping it. "Hold still." He said sternly, working his way down my shirt, button by button. I let him do it for me, distracted slightly by the way he moved his injured hand. It was obviously still painful for him.

"You Sols really are worthless."

Detecting the teasing note in his voice, I grinned.

"And that's why you Sorthiens feed us to the wolves."

* * *

A/N: Yep, okay, chapter two is complete, making this the longest fic I've ever attempted. Sad, isn't it? This chapter is a bit longer than the first, a fact I'm quite proud of. . It took me a little longer than I thought, mostly because I changed my idea halfway through…deciding to let poor Riku keep all his pretty studs. For now. And if anyone is confused about the place names, don't fret, it'll be explained soon. 

Thanks to missgoo93 for being my first reviewer! And to Moonyasha and S.A, your enthusiastic comments motivated me to work hard to continue.

**Mizuki hikari** The principal pairing will be Riku/Sora, I'll try to clarify that in my summary. Thanks for the review!

And thanks to Metallica for composing such an inspiring song as Orion, which I've had on repeat for the duration of writing this chapter. Much luv!

--Bharune


	3. The Fool

**Disclaimer: You know which characters belong to Squeenix, lol. Any names that don't sound familiar (Khaan, Sorthia, etc) are my creations, plus the world and the Sorthish language are mine. **

**Ebony Rain**

_III: The Fool_

_The Fool enters the great story of his life as innocent, yet with everything that he will become in potential._

_**Innocence. Freedom. Openness. Trust. Play. Optimism.  
**_

* * *

"My lord," a scout addressed respectfully as he guided his horse next to that of his commander's. "The pass through the mountains is heavily guarded." 

Xehanort remained silent for a moment, feeling his speckled steed stamp its feet in anticipation. The north wind blew cold, piercing through his heavy layer of thick, black fur and causing him to shiver unnoticeably -- he hated the Sorthish cold. Loathed the snow that covered the ground thickly and the large flakes that drifted serenely from the white-gray clouds. Why would anyone live in such a god-forsaken country, anyway?

"The city of Ira is just on the other side of this pass," the commander commented irately to a cloaked individual horsed on the other side of him, whose features were covered by a dark cowl. "If we can fortify it, their only method of getting supplies will be by water. All inland population will have to shift to the coastal regions."

The mysterious other said nothing.

Xehanort looked at the scout, then asked, "Who guards the pass?"

"The Wren, my lord."

"Baralai," spoke the cowled enigma, his voice as soft and icy as winter's frosted kiss. The scout suppressed a shiver -- he didn't like that stranger. He was so odd...the temperatures were freezing; yet he wore little more than black robes and a cloak of thin material. And he was small...even on horseback, the scout could tell he was not very tall, and seemed so slender that the robes swallowed him whole. Why was Commander Xehanort consulting with such a suspicious character?

Xehanort waved a dismissal towards the scout, who bowed and took his leave, then turned his full attention to his companion. "What can you tell me of this Wren?"

The shrouded male took in a thoughtful breath, and then said calmly, "General Baralai is the weakest of the Drene, but he is the best strategist. If he guards the pass, you will not get through."

A slight frown of displeasure showed itself on Xehanort's lips -- this was not what he wanted to hear, certainly. Taking Ira was essential for his strategy to succeed, and could very well turn the tides of the entire war.

"I have never seen it," the other continued, "but it is said that his bharune can return breath to a field of dead men."

Xehanort clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward, approaching the massive formation of the Kashish mountain range. Its peaks blended in with the white sky and some were devoured by the clouds, granting the surreal blurring of what was earth and what was heaven. He remembered the stories of the goddess Sorthia's flight to seek refuge among the frozen stones of the Kashish, where Khaan's loyal bloodhounds hunted her.

What a fitting end for the empire of Sorthiel.

"I was never one for fairytales. Bharunes? I have not once seen such a thing."

"Bharunae," the other corrected, following a pace beside and behind the High Commander, "come forth when their Drene are endangered. Such a thing rarely occurs."

There was a note of arrogance in the youth's tone that Xehanort found somewhat irksome, so he responded in his silky purr, "Perhaps I should have you tortured, then, and we can see if the stories are true or not."

The young man stopped his horse, his lips pursing. He had never seen his bharune, and it probably wouldn't aid him now anyway. Not that he cared; Sorthiel had turned her icy back on him, now he would do the same. Even if it meant the fall of his country, as he was confident it would. He was familiar, after all, with Sorthish territory and culture.

And, more importantly, her legendary Drene -- the Senator-Generals.

"What of the Slayer?" Xehanort inquired curiously, stopping his stallion as well, his eyes on the mountains. "I worry of him more than some Wren."

"Sephiroth is at the capital, guarding the hierophant. If you take Ira quickly, he will not be able to reach you in time to pose a threat."

That was good, at least. Xehanort mulled over his options on taking the Rhazes Pass; should he simply charge in and try to catch the Wren by surprise? No...the Sorthish would have the advantage of knowing the terrain, plus the morale of his troops were suffering in this cold. He would have to be more strategic in this instance. "If I cut off all Katar supplies from getting through this pass, he will have to come out of the mountains and face me."

There was a moment of silence as the cloaked foreigner considered the wisdom of such a course of action, his dark eyes regarding Xehanort's back. Finally, he shook his head a bit, a few strands of silver hair escaping its confines and brushing against his pale cheek. "Once Baralai notices the supplies are not coming through, he will suspect something and send for reinforcements. You will lose the element of surprise."

Xehanort glanced over his shoulder at the younger male and raised an eyebrow. "What are you proposing?"

"It is the season for mist. Prepare a fleet and sail for Soberbia, using the cover of fog for concealment. Take Soberbia and Baralai will be forced to come to her aid, then you can have Commander Luxord come through the pass with his men and fortify Ira."

The High Commander thought on this for a silent moment. It would mean spreading the legions a little more thinly, but…if he sent Commander Vexen with him…

A slight smile pulled at Xehanort's lips.

"You chose your side well, Zexion."

* * *

"Dreniba'k ri." 

I glanced up from the rosebush I was helping prune, looking at Riku quizzically. "What?"

"Dreniba'k ri," the silver-haired boy repeated, touching one of the crimson roses delicately. "Goddess' heart."

There was a moment of silence as he thought, and I mentally added 'dreniba'k ri' to my slowly improving list of Sorthish vocabulary. I really did want to learn more of the language -- it sounded so cool coming from Riku's lips, and very few, if any, Solastrians knew how to speak or write Sorthish. Sorthiel was a pretty isolated country, and they didn't like connections with the outside world (especially Solastria). In fact, now that I considered how much I _did_ know about Sorthiel...I realized it wasn't very much at all. What were the people like? The culture? The religion?

_Dreniba'k. Goddess'. _

_Ri. Heart._

I knew they served the goddess Sorthia, as avidly as we served the god Khaan here in Solastria. I knew many tribes existed among the Kashish mountain range in the Far North, living in harmony with the beasts there and the dreaded Blackmane Wolves. But when I looked at Riku...he seemed so civilized and cultured...not at all like the barbarians the bards spoke of when they entertained the court...

"Dreniba'k ri," I repeated, clipping another rose. It fell silently into a bucket with its kin, and I focused on another. Riku gave me a strange look because of my words, but I didn't meet his gaze this time. "I heard somewhere...that Khaan created the rose specifically for Sorthia."

Riku gave a nod, and I continued, drawing upon my memories of the popular stories of the deities. "He thought it...he thought it reflected both the delicacy and beauty of the feminine aspect."

Right?

Riku gave another nod and I smiled, hoping I sounded smart.

"Well, it's good to know you don't sleep through _all_ your lessons," the Sorthien said wryly, picking up his bucket and making his way to another section of the extensive manor gardens. I laughed and followed suit.

"Hey, I stopped sleeping in religious studies when I started having dreams about fireballs, dogs, and dancing virginal goddesses."

"Ah?" His lips curved into a smirk. "What's wrong with dancing virginal goddesses?"

"Nothing -- until I started molesting my desk."

He laughed outright at that, a sound that brought a grin to my own lips. It was the first time I had ever heard him laugh, and I found it to be a very pleasant sound. It caused my heart to swell a little with a feeling of brotherly affection.

I wanted to make him laugh more.

"Et dren," he cursed a little to himself, setting his bucket down and beginning to clip away the bloomed flowers on another rose bush. "How many roses do you need in one garden?"

I shrugged a little, doing the same. "Ladies are always sending my father plants. Then they come and walk through the gardens with their friends, showing them off; it's like a contest to see whose is the biggest and the prettiest."

"What a silly tradition."

Clip. Another rose fell into the bucket.

We fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, working quietly and entertaining our own thoughts. Every now and then I would steal a glance at my companion, but he seemed completely enraptured in his own reverie. It was evening, the sky painted beautifully in carnelian hues of orange and reds, the fiery sun low on the horizon and partially swallowed by the wall surrounding the estate and, further out, the rooftops of Raelius. Riku had taken his blindfold off a few hours ago because of the dying light, allowing me another glimpse at those beautiful aqua irises.

Eyes like that couldn't be natural.

Nothing about him was natural -- that made him all the more intriguing. Or perhaps...he was closer to natural than anyone I'd ever seen before.

Clip. Another rose fell into the bucket.

Riku put down his shears and straightened, his eyes lifting to the glorious display of warm perfection that blanketed the heavens in a loving embrace. I regarded him for a long moment, wondering what he was thinking about. It must be hard for him...to be here. To be a slave in some unfamiliar, distant land. Although I'm not happy he's a slave...part of me _is_ grateful for the chance to meet him. I feel that there's a connection there...between our souls. Something Otherworldly. And I feel content now, just watching him.

"Riku? What are you thinking about...?" I inquired curiously, but my question was only met with silence and I thought at first he might not respond.

"...what? Tell you and ruin the mystery?" He finally answered smoothly, shifting his vibrant eyes to look at me. "Half the appeal is in the enigma."

"What appeal?" I retorted teasingly, rolling my eyes. "You're pale, underfed, and your hair reminds me of my grandma's. I might be able to overlook all that if you had breasts, but you don't even have _that_ going for you."

"I must have something going for me," he answered with a smirk, hoisting up his bucket of clipped roses. "Have you ever seen a boy with a collar like mine?"

Well...no, he had a point there. Boys weren't generally supposed to have studded collars -- at least, so I thought. But Riku _was_ very...

...not that I would ever tell him that.

"It's not that flattering when you still have all ten of those studs, you know." I said matter-of-factly, and he flashed me a devilish grin that I _know_ caused my cheeks to warm.

"I'll let you know," he said, slinging his bucket over his shoulder and heading back to the manor. "When I start taking bids on the first one."

* * *

_**Message of the Fool: **_

_Trust in your inner knowing. Life is an adventure -- a journey of discovery to be enjoyed. _

* * *

A/N: And that is chapter 3, folks. I know it's a bit shorter than my last chapter, and not that exciting, but I promise the story will pick up soon. And now that I have a layout of what I want to accomplish where, the chapters should flow considerably more easily. I have about half or so of the next chapter done (written in Algebra II…I always knew there had to be some use for that class . ) and hopefully it will be up within the next few weeks. 

Still no internet. It'll probably be back up around the start of February, so you can expect quicker chapters then. I have the main plot worked out, but any ideas for scenes (particularly fluff scenes) or plot I will gladly consider (though not necessarily use). And, of course, contributions will receive due credit. And sorry if some things in the fic sound awkward, I'm not used to writing in first person so much. My last chapter was written months ago, so if the transaction between that one and this one is strange, sorry. I don't have time to fine-tune it yet, so…

Thanks everyone for all the wonderful reviews! They are food for my soul! And constructive criticism is always welcome, too.

**Have to Wonder**: Yeah, I'll update to M when I get to that point, most likely. Kinda worried about what I put on the line between M and more-than-M is a little vague to me…

**Chibi**: Who's the uke? Hm…I dunno yet. Prolly Riku, it just suits him better, ne?

**missgoo93**: Thanks for the review! And I love your story, too

Thanks everyone!

--Bharune


	4. The Magician

**Disclaimer: Again, if it's familiar it's probably not original, which means I have no ownership (just so we're clear). **

**Ebony Rain**

_IV: The Magician_

_The Magician knows the secrets of creation -- he knows how to open himself to the two aspects of divine creative energy knows as Inspiration and Life-force._

_**Direction. Will Power. Life-force. Inspiration. Creativity.**_

* * *

The days slipped by like grains of sand through an hourglass.

One after another, until a month had passed, then two. They were pleasing, unconflicted days I spent with my friend, laughing when he made a sly comment and getting indignant when he teased me or bested me in a spar (which was always). In the mornings I would do my lessons, and in the afternoon I'd help Riku with his duties.

Imagine -- a noble cleaning his own house. Surely such a travesty had never before occurred. But...I didn't mind. I didn't mind the stains on my clothes or the calluses on my hands, it was something to do with my excessive leisure time and hanging around Riku was far more entertaining than anything else I could be doing.

We spent our evenings in the tower, where we were undisturbed.

"Checkmate. Maybe you should give this up already."

I leaned back in my plush, burgundy chair and groaned. Not _again_...

Sure enough, his white empress and bastion had my ebony sovereign trapped against one corner of the checkered board. He was good…

"Do people play a lot of chess in Sorthiel?" I inquired curiously, arranging the pieces for another game. The fire flicked low in the warm hearth so it wouldn't bother Riku's eyes, and exaggerated all the dark shadows cast by the pieces. "You're not bad."

The silver-haired boy shifted, sitting up on the couch and setting up his own marble legion with a slight smirk. "Not usually. Most prefer Arimaa, but I learned the Solastrian chess in school."

"Oh," I said, and then paused as I moved a pawn forward. He responded by bringing one of his paladins into play. "I didn't know there were schools in Sorthiel."

Riku stiffened a little with indignation, and I immediately regretted my words. He must be getting used to it, though, because he simply said, "of course there are. But they're not really like your schools here."

"Oh?" I pressed curiously, hoping to redeem myself. I really hadn't meant to insult him…there were so many misconceptions about the Sorthish in Solastria…

"They're called 'benae'," he explained, moving another piece forward. "We're raised in benae from the moment we're born. We don't live with our families like you Sols."

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "When we turn five, we're separated by gender and sent to reckerbenae and bosherbenae."

I shifted my bastion forward and captured his high priest, smiling a little at the success. Determination filled my being to the brim – tonight would be the night. Tonight I would defeat Riku in chess, or die trying! I would not sleep until—

_Clack._ My bastion toppled over and one of his paladins stood in its stead.

Ah! I didn't even see it! Sneaky little…

"In reckerbenae, males are taught the art of warfare and weaponry," Riku continued nonchalantly, though I could tell he was enjoying this. "In bosherbenae, females are taught the skills necessary to manage Sorthiel's economy and meet the needs of the citizens."

"Is Sorthiel run by a king, like Solastria?"

Again, Riku shook his head. "Aren't you guys taught _anything_? Sorthiel is a theocracy. She's led by her Draenath – Hierophant – and seven Drene."

"Oh." I said, a response that was beginning to become quite habitual. I knew a little about the Drene, I sometimes overheard my father talking about them with his tacticians and other commanders. "They're the generals, right?"

"More than that – they're also our senators."

The word 'senator' brought to mind fat old men with an obnoxious guffaw and rotund belly, like the members of the Katar parliament we occasionally housed as guests. I hated men like that, who thought they were superior and tried to make everyone else look like uneducated idiots. And I always had to be polite to them, regardless of what they said to me, which sucked even more.

"So the Slayer…is a real person, then?" The Slayer was the most well known Sorthish general, rumored to have slaughtered a _thousand_ men single-handedly when his battalion fell. Surely someone capable of that could be neither fat nor old.

"He is." Riku assured, stretching his arms up like a cat and lying on the couch. The embers in the hearth were dying, and their last breaths illuminated little of the chessboard so I didn't bother taking my turn. I was much more interested in what Riku had to say, anyway.

"What's he like?"

"He's only the strongest man to ever live." The Sorthien answered with a smirk. "He could slice a man in half as easily as butter. The only thing more devastating to an enemy's army than the Slayer would be the Slayer and the Wolf fighting together."

"The Wolf?" I watched him tuck his arms behind his head and stare up at the ceiling. For some reason…I noticed certain details about Riku that I had never noticed about anyone before. Like…how the silver strands of hair brushed his pale cheek, and his aqua eyes danced with youthful vitality.

And his shirt had come up just a little at his stomach, showing a bit of his smooth, flat midriff.

Riku glanced at me and I started a little from my thoughts, my cheeks instantly touched with rose. Luckily, I was sure it was too dark for him to tell.

"So…you never had a mother…?" I asked, stretching my body over the chair so my legs hung off one side and my head was resting on the other plush arm.

"Well…" he went back to regarding the ceiling, watching the patterns of shadows perform their grim dance. "I remember my opuren…she took care of me in my first benae…"

Getting sleepy, I yawned, but my interest never waned. "Really…? What was she like…?"

"I don't remember much…" he confided quietly. "But…I remember that there was this lullaby she used to sing…"

And he began to hum softly. It was a quiet, lulling melody, almost sad, and…familiar, somehow. But the familiarity was a distant one, like…some forgotten memory, or…a dream that hovers just barely out of conscious reach…

And somewhere in the gentle, soothing humming of Riku's voice I found the words that belonged, but were never spoken. And I did, but couldn't, understand them…

_Feore bae khir_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron_

_Khir undak mir_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron_

_Feore ffyrl maat_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron_

_Maat sur gherin thaat_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron_

_Novur soth sunef_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron_

_Sunef el'suun boref_

_Suun ek ron, suun ek ron…_

* * *

"R-Riku…?" I whispered tentatively, peering at him through the almost impenetrable darkness. I was kneeling by the couch, where he was sleeping.

I rubbed one of my eyes a little, clearing the last vestiges of sleep. How long had we been out? It wasn't morning yet, but the deepest part of night had already passed. I didn't even remember falling asleep…

A soft, wavering sigh escaped Riku's lips, accompanied by an almost inaudible whimper, but he didn't wake. It was one of _those _dreams again, wasn't it? The dreams that made him writhe, the dreams that made sweat collect on his forehead…

The dreams he wouldn't talk about.

What were those dreams about? Were they of the darkness of his cell when he was held captive? Were they…could they be nightmares of being here…?

It didn't matter. I had to wake him. How could I let him stay in that world, the world that obviously tormented him?

"…Riku…" I touched his bare arm gently, and he started as if the contact burned.

I'm not quite sure what happened after my startled yelp, but I instantly hit the hard floor and the air was ripped viciously from my lungs. I was struggling with a very panicked and/or angry Sorthien in a tangled web of limbs and clothes, fearing for my _life_ and his _sanity_. This wasn't the first time I had woken him or tried to comfort him during a night-terror, but it _was_ the first time he had ever _attacked me for it!_

"Ri-Riku!" I strangled out, fighting to restrain him "It's me! Sora!"

Wha—I know he did _not_ just _growl_ at me!

He really must've been out of it, because after a few moments of scuffling I managed to pin him to the floor, straddling his hips and pressing his wrists down at either side of his head. I knew he still could've thrown me off if he had really wanted to, but he was beginning to calm a little as I -- soothingly, I hope – said his name over and over.

Riku. Riku. Riku…

He was trembling. Why was he trembling? And his eyes were wide, his breathing passing from his lips in short, quick gasps.

"It's alright. It's alright…" I murmured, releasing his wrists and lying against his chest, nuzzling his neck slightly.

"…S-Sora...?" His tone was so soft, wavering a little but beginning to recover. Where was the confidence in your voice? Where was the defiant nothing-can-tear-me-down attitude I found so endearing in you…?

"Yeah…" I answered quietly but didn't move, trying to steady my own quick breathing. From the scuffle. "…Are you alright…?"

"…Yeah."

But he didn't shift, or make any indication he wanted me to move, so…I didn't. It was amazing how un-awkward the situation was. He was silent – from embarrassment? thoughtfulness? the lingering sleepy haze? – and I was entertaining my own private thoughts.

Actually, I was warring with my mind _not _to entertain certain private thoughts, something I probably would've had a much easier time with if I had gotten off him. And yet…I didn't. So my mind won a battle and a blush stole across my cheeks, causing me to try to focus on the beating of his heart instead. Or was it my heart? I couldn't tell, there only seemed to be one…

"Riku?" I murmured quietly, and it was another moment before he responded softly.

"…hm?"

"Let's leave this place." I said, staring off into the dark void that engulfed my tower. One of my hands was resting absently against his chest, my fingers shifting slightly against the thin material of his shirt. "I can get some money. We'll go somewhere -- anywhere. We'll travel to Kataranna, or Sorthiel if you want."

Riku chuckled in that horribly, _frustratingly _amused manner of his, and I knew he had already made a full recovery. "Really, Sora – running away with the devilishly-handsome house slave? I hadn't pegged you for the romantic type."

"Shut up." I grumbled, annoyed that he could joke when I was being perfectly serious, and shifted off him so I was next to him. He sat up as well, stretching one leg out, and I drew both my knees close to rest my chin on them.

The more I thought about it…the more impossible I realized my suggestion was. Stupid, really. It was a nice concept, but the reality was…my father would never let me just leave like that. He'd have the whole of Solastria out to find my ass, Kataranna, too, and then Riku would probably get charged with kidnapping and be sentenced to death.

"What brought this on all of the sudden?" He asked, regarding me curiously. Truth was, it wasn't really _that_ sudden, but…

Oh. I just remembered why I had been awake in the first place. I had heard a noise, somewhere far off in the distance. Sound traveled far at night, when the world slumbered peacefully and the city was as silent as a graveyard.

"_He'll_ be home tomorrow." I stated quietly, my tone a little dark. I knew he would be. I couldn't recall hearing any sounds consciously to support this, even though I called it a 'noise', but I had awakened with _that feeling_.

"Who?" Riku asked without thinking, but I didn't answer. I didn't need to answer; I could feel the Sorthien tense as realization struck him heavily.

_Xehanort._

* * *

_ **Message of the Magician:**_

_Open yourself to the power of Inspiration and Life-force and let it flow through you and into the world._

* * *

A/N: It's short again, I know. I wanted to get it up before I went back to my internet-less home tomorrow. x.x It's currently 5am, so my proof-reading and writing is most likely mediocre at best, but...:/

I made a slight blunder in the note in my last chapter, tho. I actually meant to say I intended to make Riku the seme (with Sora), but accidentally said uke and didn't realize. Gomen v.v. Well, he'll be playing the uke, too, since that's oh-so-yummy, soo…it's all good, right? Next chapter will most likely be longer and have a bit more action (or is that just wishful thinking…?). Oh, and the Wolf I mentioned is an OC, so don't spend too much time trying to figure out who it is. :/ Gomen.

**missgoo93** Thank you, your review made me grin XD

**Shadow Sunset** Yep, that's how studs are removed alright. Can you see why Tens are so rare? Oo

Thanks for the reviews! Reviews encourage me to stay up until 5am typing up the next chapter/hint, hint/

_**Next chapter**__Riku and Sora have to steal away under the pretense of…attending church? And what's this – Sora dressed like a girl? And after deciding to help a poor, defenseless kid, Riku and Sora find themselves in a bit of a skirmish with the wrong crowd…_

--Bharune


	5. The High Priestess

**Disclaimer:** Don't own KHII, or the information on the Major Arcana. I do, however, own Kjurn and all the goes with it. XD

**Ebony Rain**

_V: The High Priestess_

_The Magician's power is externalized into the physical world, whereas The High Priestess's power is internal, and mediates the forces of the Otherworld._

_**Depth. Intuition. Dreams. Inner Wisdom. The Unconscious.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Why do _I _have to wear the skirt?" I asked for the thousandth time, trudging along beside Riku. It was a lovely Sunday, the solar god gracing us with beautiful, clear skies and warm caresses from the gentle wind, and it seemed everyone was bustling about. Maybe it was because we were at the end of the First Month of Reaping, so the residents were bringing in their harvest and preparing for annual festivities. Morale of the city was always high at this time, as food was plentiful and the bazaar was simply _packed _with customers and vendors, arguing, bartering, and hawking all kinds of things. I loved visiting the marketplace; it was always full of so many curiosities….exotic ornaments, shimmering materials, weapons, jewelry, food that can't be bought during any other time of the year, you name it. Even though we weren't heading towards the bazaar, I could still smell the spices and the cooked meats; I could still hear the animals, bells, and people shouting…

Or maybe it was so busy because today was the last Sunday of the month, so everyone who had procrastinated in attending church were getting off their lazy, impious asses to make their required monthly visit to the cathedral. I did note the amount of people heading in that direction, but I didn't have much to compare it to because…well…

I've _always _attended my monthly Gathering on the last Sunday. I hope Khaan doesn't mind, I never meant any blasphemy by it. Sermons just tend to be a little dull for my taste…

But coming out today allowed us to avoid my father a little longer.

"You _know_ you can't just go traipsing around town as a noble, Sora," Riku answered with a note of exasperation, fidgeting with his hat. I wish he would stop doing that – what if some of his hair came loose? People would see! And he wasn't wearing a blindfold (I think his eyes were getting desensitized by the light), so people were already attracted by his vivid irises. "Not without a guard or something."

I frowned in severe annoyance, adjusting the long servant's skirt and pulling the hood of the heavy cloak down further to hide more of my face. What if someone recognized me?

"No one's going to recognize you," the Sorthien answered, then cast me a smirk that I more heard in his tone than actually saw. "Why should anyone doubt you're anything but an innocent little servant girl?"

I tilted my head up in indignation and shot him a glare. "This disguise isn't going to fool anyone. I'll have you know I'm very masculine."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. It's my shoulders. People tell me they're very…manly."

In reality, Riku was right. I couldn't've walked around as a noble without any guards, who knew what might've happened? And Riku only had one clean outfit, so Anathasia went through the clothes of the other slaves to find something…

…but they were _all _female…

Riku laughed outright at this and gave me a playful shove, which I wasn't expecting, causing me to stumble. "Whatever you say, Butch."

I would've replied with some highly-clever retort, but I was too busy trying not to collide with the small body Riku had inadvertently pushed me into. The result was that I did hit the girl and knocked her down, but I somehow managed to avoid falling on top of her, which would've put me in a very compromising position.

"Are you alright?" I asked with concern, forgetting I was trying to be incognito. I hurried to help her up. "I'm sorry! Are you hurt?"

I was a young girl with chestnut hair, having only about six or seven years, carrying a basket in one hand. She was rather dirty and her clothes were too big…where were her parents? Still, she pulled herself up with my help and brushed herself off, as if that would help much.

"Yes, I'm fine," she reassured, but went into a fit of violent coughing. I patted her back a little, but luckily it quickly passed and she offered me a cute smile. "Sorry 'bout that!"

I scratched my head sheepishly and grinned. "No, really, it was my fault…"

"Oh! Would you like to buy aleurobread?" she asked with such an innocent expression, gesturing a little to her basket. It was covered with a checkered cloth, but I could smell the warm scent of bread wafting from the wicker and I _was_ a little hungry. I glanced at Riku, but he just gave a slight shrug of indifference.

Plus, she looked like she could use a bit of coin…

"Sure," I answered with a smile, and she beamed.

"Great!"

I gave the girl a copper coin and she handed both me and Riku a little round ball of bread before thanking me and bouncing off to other hopeful customers. I smiled a little to myself, breaking the bread open and pulling the tiny piece of parchment out of the middle.

_Today your future is decided._

"That's kinda creepy," I commented, reading the paper once more before glancing over at Riku. "It says---Riku!"

"Whut?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of the bread as we continued slowly towards the cathedral. I wrinkled my nose a little in distaste.

"How can you eat that? Sweet as she seemed, that girl did _not _look like hygiene was an important factor in her household."

"Sora," he started, pulling his own fortune out of the bread. He then popped the rest of it into his mouth, finishing it up before continuing. "That girl poured her heart and soul into making this bread to sell. So what if it's not as clean as the food in the manor? If it doesn't kill normal people to eat it, it won't kill you."

Was that irritation I detected in his tone?

I was about to make some indignant reply about the safety hazards of unclean foods, but I was cut off by the loud bells ringing from the temple nearby. Fithayre Basilica, it was called, and it housed the largest bell in all Kjurn – Rishonim Kanie; after the sage of faith and eternal blessing. I always loved to hear the bells; they tolled with such beautiful harmony…the lighter ones that dance on the air and flow, to and fro, like water around the slower, fiery tenor and the rich earthly ones that seemed to mimic the very heartbeat of the foundation. I smiled, moving in front of Riku to approach the church.

It was massive, taller than even the manor, and formed the very center of Raelius. Curving, beautiful spires of ivory curled up towards the sky, engraved on every surface with twisting, mesmeric designs and ancient runes. Twined in with the perfect architecture were intricate snakes of gold, the metal of the sun, flashing playfully in the solar rays. Wrapping around the circumference of the holy building was a clear rivulet of water; like a moat, only it flowed continuously in a circle. The liquid was blessed, people said, and so many drank from it for healing or dipped things in it to be cleansed.

Travelers came from all over the world came to view this chapel. Everyone said the light was the strongest here.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked Riku, heading eagerly up the wide limestone steps. He followed silently, craning his neck to see all around.

I bet nothing like this exists in Sorthiel.

Oh, I almost forgot! Today was a very special day for me – the day of my Cleansing. I remembered about then, and I also remembered…

That I was very nervous.

The thought curbed my enthusiasm and caused my steps to slow into a more natural pace. I wasn't afraid or anything, not afraid at all, why should I be? I'd seen these ceremonies countless times before, and the participants were never injured. Khaan would never allow such a thing.

It would cleanse me, and I would be able to see them again. The visions. I'd meet my Guardian and see the visions and everyone in Solastria would respect me. I'd be important.

I'd help Solastria win the war.

But what if I didn't? What if the Cleansing didn't work and I didn't meet my Guardian or start seeing the visions again? I'd be a disappointment…

"Sora?" I heard Riku voice with concern, crossing the steps along with me. "What is it?"

Drawn from my thoughts, I flashed him a cheerful grin. "Nothin'! You go in and find a place to sit, I need to get changed!"

And without waiting for a reply, I ran off.

* * *

"Don't. Say. A. Thing." 

I slid inconspicuously into the pew next to Riku, awarding him a glare for his innocent look. He stifled a snicker.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Butch," he responded, but I could hear the laughter in his tone. "You must've really enjoyed wearing that dress today."

"They're _robes._" I answered haughtily, frowning.

Alright, alright, so it wasn't the design I would've chosen; it wasn't as though I got much choice in the matter.

The ceremonial robes I had donned for the occasion were of a silvery, silken material, hemmed expertly with night-blue designs that spun webs around the base, collar, and sleeves. They were a little big on me, admittedly, the shoulders a little too wide, but I was surprised at how comfortable they were. Leaning my back against the pew, I noticed how the flecks of light from the numerous chandeliers and candelabra swam across the substance, looking very much like luminescent fish in an argent sea…

"Hey, Riku," I said, glancing at him. He turned his attention from the marvelous paintings of the Rishonim the decorated the massive chapel, fixing his inquiring, aqua gaze on me. "What did your fortune say?"

He offered me his customary half-smirk in response, his hand disappearing into his pocket to retrieve the small, balled parchment. Unfolding it, he held it out for me to see as well.

_Someone's heart beats only for you._

I read it once, twice, then snorted loudly. "What a load of duck droppings! These things are so predictable."

"No, Sora, don't bother denying it," Riku said dramatically, touching one hand to his chest. "Today the eyes of some beautiful woman will meet mine, and she will know instantly that she will never love another. So long as she breathes she'll never be able to tear her thoughts from the devilishly handsome and frightfully cunning Riku of Sorthiel."

"Hah!" I countered, not caring that I was being a little loud. Sure, the sermon hadn't started yet and other people were murmuring, but this _was_ a church, after all. "I'd like to see _that!"_

But an old man in dreary black attire shushed me viciously from the pew behind, and I almost shot him an indignant glare before catching myself.

Better mind my manners…

The deep, rhythmic song of the organ started, and I heard the heavy doors of the cathedral close in the back. People were still conversing quietly when a dozen or so acolytes moved down the aisles – three on each side of two rows of pews – passing amongst the attendees a collection basket. People put in the basket whatever they had to offer; coins, cloth, candleholders, talismans…it was to ward away the stain of the Unclean.

Acolytes were always young and, since Khaan was also the god of physical aesthetics, often rather pretty, especially in their robes of white and gold. Because of this I wasn't surprised (though I was still a little offended) when Riku glanced up with interest at the acolyte who had paused in the aisle next to him, waiting on the collection basket to make its way down our pew.

I should've had the foresight _not _to've let Riku sit at the end…

The acolyte, like the others, had the white hood of the robes drawn, so I couldn't see any details of the young individual. I didn't get much time to look, either, for it was at about that time that the collection plate was sent to me and I had to redirect my attention to pilfering through my pockets for my coin bag. The deceptively evasive pouch took me a moment to find, but when I did I dropped in enough gil to cover both Riku and I aptly.

Upon glancing back up, I caught sight of Riku taking the arm of the acolyte (who had lifted a hand to retrieve the basket), and touch gently the delicate wrist that had been exposed from beneath the light material of one long sleeve. The Sorthien said something in a low purr, and I felt _my _cheeks flush in vexation even though I didn't catch the words.

"Riku!" I hissed, dropping the basket roughly onto his lap. "What're you doing?!"

The acolyte's crystalline eyes were on Riku now, so I could at least see the face of the person who had caught his attention.

The acolyte was a boy; pretty, of course, probably no older than I was. He was remarkably effeminate with his slender hands and graceful features, and I could see long tresses of gold shimmer beneath his hood. And he seemed surprisingly unabashed at being hit on by some complete stranger, not to mention _another male_…

Despite the obvious displeasure of my reprimand, Riku kept his eyes on the acolyte, releasing the boy's hand to pass him the collection basket. The blonde took it easily.

"Are you sure you don't wish to tithe?" he asked the Sorthien sweetly, his lips curving into a small smile. "You, obviously, could use all the help you can get against the Unclean."

"Mm. What's the point? It'd only last until the next time you walked by."

I was, quite literally, shocked stupid. What kind of game was Riku playing, anyway?

The acolyte, however, only offered Riku a slightly dark smirk before continuing on, allowing the procession to continue. Once they passed I punched the Sorthien in the arm, greatly annoyed. "Are you trying to offend everyone?! That's blasphemy!"

Completely unfazed, Riku only snorted in reply. "Please, Sora. You know that priest up there has his way with one or all of those acolytes."

Thank Khaan no one else heard that…

Feeling my irritation beginning to ebb, I settled back, allowing a smug grin to steal over my features. "Seems like _that _acolyte prefers the old priest over you. He didn't act interested in the slightest."

"Meh," Riku tucked his arms behind his head, shrugging slightly as if it didn't matter to him at all. "He must be a eunuch."

* * *

_And then, as we all know, the loyal bloodhounds of Khaan fought a terrible war against the Blackmane Wolves of Sorthia. Many days the battles raged on endlessly, both sides suffering tremendous casualties, but in the end none of the Wolves were a match for the great strength and cunning of Theron, Khaan most powerful hound. Theron tore through the Blackmane, only to find that Sorthia had disappeared into the twisting labyrinth of the Kashish Mountain caves with the help of a small, white fox. Severely wounded and now completely mortal, Sorthia could not go far, and Theron was able to lead the Teraphim directly to her hiding place._

I leaned back, listening to the story I knew so well. The story we all knew. Still…even though she was the Dark Goddess and all that, I couldn't help but feel sorry for Sorthia…

_Filled with the Empyreal energy bestowed upon them by Khaan, the Teraphim drug Sorthia back to Shriata where she was burned for all to see. And with her dying breath, the Black One cursed the Teraphim, ripping their immortal souls from their physical bodies and condemning them to live forever in the Void, without ever having the chance to reincarnate or rejoin the living. That is why, my friends, that the Teraphim have become our protectors and mentors, guiding us against the temptation of the dark ones and the stain of Unclean through the enlightenment of visions and dreams. _

Oh, that was my cue. I offered Riku a small grin before rising, making my way slowly towards the head of the church and the lectern poised in front of the priest.

_Today we honor the purge of Unclean from this fine young man; Viscount Sora of Raelius. With this blessing I grant you as a representative of Khaan, may the spirit of the Teraphim come upon you and gift you with guidance in their perpetual wisdom and knowledge. May it be also known that this vessel of light is now untouchable to unholy entities – most noteably, the Nightshifters, who seek to lead the sheep of Khaan astray by infecting their dreams with Malice._

Malice…negative energy.

I stopped next to the priest and he touched my forehead, asking me the customary question.

"Have you ever seen a Nightshifter, Sora?"

"No. The grace of Khaan wards them off," came my practiced reply.

Everyone knew Nightshifters didn't really exist – or, if they had once, they were long gone by now. According to legend, though, they came into being because of the vestiges of the Teraphims' souls that remained inside their physical shells when Sorthia tore them apart. Nightshifters were evil, filled with Malice, and the people of Kjurn eventually banded together and wiped them out, offering their bodies as sacrifices to Khaan.

Supposedly Nightshifters bring a disease of the mind, and if you allow one to touch you they gain the ability to plague and control your dreams. If you, Khaan forbid, were to share your bed with one, they can access the furthest depths of your soul and receive all the knowledge you've collected throughout all your lives on Kjurn. But Nightshifters were easily distinguishable – they had a spiral burn mark on their throat, called a Mar.

"May Khaan continue to protect you," the priest recited, and two of the acolytes came over to me, beginning to drench my thick, silver robes with a special kind of oil. I was getting a little nervous now, my eyes flicking over the assembly, and I was beginning to feel a little light-headed. It was so bright in the ivory-walled cathedral, and why did they need all those candles, anyway?

I glanced over my shoulder nervously, making sure the pool of water built into the floor was, indeed, there, and filled with the liquid as it should be. It was, and I felt a little better.

A little.

An acolyte wrapped a dark cloth around my eyes, and it actually relaxed me a bit. I calmed myself, saying I've seen this done a thousand times, and focused instead on listening. The whispers of the audience, the rustling movements of the acolytes, the very slight, soft ripple of water somewhere behind me…

Breath in. Breath out.

"May Khaan cleanse the Unclean from this soul just as he cleansed the dark Sorthia from the world!"

Then I felt it.

I let out a startled yelp as the flames consumed my body as easily as a piece of parchment, engulfing the silver sea in a devastating inferno. The water, I was supposed to go to the water, but my mind blanked instantly and I couldn't think of anything except_ making it stop!_

I was going to die.

I felt a hand grip mine, as if reassuring, and I grabbed desperately for the owner, who only shoved me backwards.

Then I was falling…falling…

* * *

**Message of the High Priestess:**

_Present yourself before the Mysteries of Life and before the deities in humility and with reverence. Open to the stillness and the depths within you to gain strength and wisdom._

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I know; it's about time, right? Sorry, guys, I'll try to update more quickly now that I'm off school. So here's the fifth chapter of Ebony Rain, quite an achievement for me! Unfortunately, I'm not very pleased with the way this chapter came out….I accomplished everything I set out to, but I don't think my writing's very good in this chapter. :/ Sorry! 

And I know I said there'd be trouble in this chapter, but due to length I had to divide it in half. So that part'll be in the next installment. And I know people are waiting on Xehanort to pop in and angsty conflict and even smut – I swear it's coming up soon!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

**Laura** Thanks! No, the lullaby is made up (the result of boredom in Algebra II, heh). Took me forever to get it to come out like I wanted, too. Watch for the translation, it'll pop up soon! As for Sora being Sorthien…good possibility, good possibility, you'll just have to wait and see. XD

**missgoo93** Ah, FFXII is more addicting than chocolate, ne?

**Shadow Sunset** The dream is a se-cr-et! But it'll probably be revealed next chapter, haha…

**Random Nobody**: Thanks so much! Reviews like yours really make me squee XD

**xL4stBr3ath** Nope on both accounts, but keep that brain working! It makes me happy to hear people's speculations!

**apatheticfire** Kudos to apatheticfire for pointing out my misspelling of Xaldin in the first chapter and my use of Dilan instead in the other three. It happened when I revised the first chappie and decided to use their Org names instead of the original ones. Then I forgot about the change. Sorry! I'll fix it soon, I promise.

And yes, I've decided to go with the pseudonym 'Bharune' because it's a completely original word. :) So even though it looks like multiple people have been writing this fic, it's only been me, I swear!

**CHALLENGE: The first person who can guess what month the First Month of Reaping really is, gets the next chapter dedicated to them! **This isn't particularly hard and there are no stupid answers, so guess away, dear readers. There'll similar challenges at the end of other chapters, so don't fret if you don't get this one.

-Bharune


	6. The Lady

**Disclaimer: **Yep. Do want, do not own.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to **apatheticfire** for being the first to correctly guess last challenge question (the First Month of Reaping is September). Congrats! A lot of people guessed and a few nailed it, but apatheticfire was the first. Check out her stuff here: about the slow update again...funny thing, lol -- when you have a lot of free time, you tend to get less accomplish. Or maybe that's just me O.o

**Ebony Rain**

_VI: The Lady_

_Seated on her throne, the Lady represents the divine and the land._

* * *

Can't...breathe... 

I was kicking and flailing, yelling at someone -- anyone -- to help. Panic pervaded my senses and fire erupted in my lungs, water filling my mouth and throat as I screamed, fighting some invisible hold on me. The solid floor of the pool was right beneath my legs, I could feel it there, but my body wouldn't obey my commands. It seemed as though I was made of rock, I couldn't rise to the surface or even kick off the bottom, I could only make the futile motions with my arms.

Help...anyone...

/Do not fear./

I reached up towards the surface pleadingly, unable to break the water, but no one grabbed my hand. Having already ripped off the blindfold, I could make out the rippling, intricate ceiling far above and the bubbles that scurried towards freedom as I choked on the unforgiving water.

K-Khaan...I don't want to die...

Riku...

/This test is not for you./

Suddenly there were a flurry of bubbles as a hand shot into the water and seized mine, ripping me from the force that held me down and back into light and sweet, sweet air. Then the ground was beneath my feet once more, someone holding me up as I tried to cough up water and breath in oxygen at the same time. Shouts...people were shouting...but I was so dizzy and couldn't make sense of what and I was seeing or hearing...everything was swirling...

I felt my legs give out, and I fell into the blissful embrace of velvet darkness.

* * *

Or...ah... 

Orah...

--ora!

"Sora!"

I jerked up was a gasp, coughing and spitting, but the water I was trying to expel was imaginary. My throat was raw, but dry, and the only thing that choked my lungs was my own breath. I panted a little as the panic subsided, taking in my surroundings. The earth was hard beneath my wet robes, and I was sitting against...an old building. It was late afternoon, but the dirt roads and decaying houses of the area seemed to be deserted, without any real movement except the flutter of a curious butterfly nearby. I could see the top of the church over the thatched roofing, and shuddered involuntarily. It was a little chilly since I was dripping wet...

"Hey, you're awake," Riku remarked, sitting next to me against the building.

"Yeah, I --"

"You jerk!" Suddenly he punched me rather unnecessarily in the arm, his expression annoyed, and rose.

"Hey!" I shouted angrily, rubbing my assaulted limb, and my eyes narrowed into a glare. I almost died back there! "What the hell was that for!?"

"You could've told me!" He yelled back, turning to face me with an emphatic gesture of his arm. "Didn't you think I might like a little warning that they were going to be setting you on fire!? Et dren! Ish skul ler brita, nevrikin drenuv, ffenin ron..."

He turned in a distressed circle, throwing up his hands and cursing in Sorthish. I felt my anger ebb immediately and I leaned back, watching him, a small smile touching my lips. He had been worried...

I guessed it never occurred to me that Riku wouldn't be familiar with the custom. In retrospect, it was pretty silly of me to assume he'd know it, but...it was so common here I hadn't even given it a second thought. I suppose it _would _be a pretty scary sight to an outsider.

"Hey, stop fussing. You're making your hair come loose," I said, standing and moving in front of him, lifting my hands to tuck the silken, silver strands back into the dark hat. He stopped, allowing me to complete my task, granting me a slight glower as reward for my troubles. He shifted a little and I had to reprimand him for fidgeting when I was trying to keep us from attracting too much attention, to which he begrudgingly replied that it didn't matter now anyway because the church congregation had caught more than a glimpse of his silver hair and were probably looking for us.

"You pulled me out, huh?" I asked, gently pressing the last few slivers of rebellious moonlight beneath the protective cover. Others weren't supposed to interfere with the ceremony, but...what had happened wasn't normal at all. I couldn't express the sense of gratitude I felt. "Why?"

"Didn't look like anyone else was going to," he mumbled, shifting again in discomfort, and I pulled my hands back, regarding him for a silent moment. He was taller than me, though not by a whole lot, but he seemed a little insecure at this moment.

"But...you could've left me..."

He appeared surprised by this suggestion, as if it had never occurred to him, and had opened his mouth to reply when a series of loud, angry shouts sliced through our dialogue and a flash of gold and ivory darted swiftly passed, disappearing around a corner. The yells increased in volume, and at the heels of the wrathful verbiage came a trio of thuggish men running after the burst of sunlight.

"Hey! They're chasing that person!" I exclaimed, running after the men. I heard Riku attempt to call me back, but I had already rounded the corner after the hunters. I didn't know why they were chasing the smaller individual, but something took control of my legs before I could even think about it. Dust flitted about the path left by the roguish pursuers, catching the low sun and glittering mawkishly, and I could tell by the undesirable aroma we were dipping deeper into the sickly 'underbelly' of Raelius. The buildings were a picture of perpetual decay, the food barrels wafting with contaminated water and rotting fruit that caused my delicate stomach to twist. Suddenly I felt horribly nervous and out of place and unreasonably guilty all at once.

The vagabonds turned another corner, still hot on the tail of their prey, and I heard them stop. Sliding to a halt behind them, my mind took a second to register a few critical notions.

One -- I had no evidence that the person they were pursuing didn't deserve to be chased.

Two -- I had nothing to defend myself with, and certainly couldn't take them on bare-handed.

Three -- Perhaps I could help them negotiate some sort of compromise without anyone getting a bloody nose (namely, me).

They hadn't noticed me yet, but that didn't last long. I saw one of the pursuers step forward and jerk the golden-haired youth up roughly by the collar of plain, white robes, who had turned this corner only to be faced with a sturdy makeshift fence between two houses. It was the acolyte from the church! The one Riku had spoken with!

"Hey!" I shouted, and instantly all four sets of eyes were on me. It was a good thing Riku skidded to a stop next time me at about that time. "What's going on?"

"This brat owes me money!" a dingey-haired, unwashed brute of a man answered, shoving the acolyte's back hard against the side of one of the mud-brick accommodations. I heard the youth emit a slight whimper, and took a step forward. "Now'm here to collect! You'd be best te keep on walkin', lad, 'less ya wan'ta be in on the payment."

The other gave a pair of hearty guffaws, turning to face Riku and I. They moved forward, blocking most visualization of their leader and the captured acolyte, and caused me to not only retract my step but take a few more backwards.

"Luck smiles on us, Brol!" Quipped the smaller one of the two flunkies, his dirty yellow hair reminding me of a rotting banana. "A fine pair of boys, jus' fer our enjoyment! Oi, you take that ther brunette -- I know hows you likes'em fem'nine."

Still moving backwards, I shared a glance with Riku. He kept his expression neutral, but a profound understanding passed through us in that briefest of moments. And instantly, simultaneously and without warning, we both took off running in different directions. I didn't glance back, but I could tell the two thugs had taken the bait and split up -- the one called Brol who liked 'fem'nine' boys was chasing me, and Banana Rot was presumably following Riku. No problem, I could so handle one great lout.

Vanishing around a teetering house, I dove behind a large wooden crate the smelled nauseatingly of urine and heavily mildewed cloth and waited for any sight of the fem'nine-loving Brol. I hate to tell ya, bub, but Banana Rot couldn't've have been more wrong about the grace of luck on you two.

I watched Brol skid to a stop, looking around in confusion, and I began to formulate a devious plan.

I could sneak over to that barrel over there, stealthily retrieve some squishy, mushy fruit or vegetable and plant it on the ground. Then all I'd have to do is give a holler, ole' Brol'll come running, and BAM! Right on his large buttocks. Or, I could always --

A loud _clack-clattering _caught my attention, and I glanced behind me to see a wheeled stand with coiled rope, cheep jewelry, and other accessories sidling along the next street that crossed the one we were currently employing for our cat-and-mouse game. A lanky man was pulling the cart -- undoubtedly returning from the bazaar. I had the image of Brol crashing in to that poor resident's cart, but I highly doubted he'd be stupid enough to fall that. Flunkies that dense were only in books and plays. But I could improvise.

I took off again at full speed toward the stand, hearing Brol shout something from behind and launch himself after me. The accessory cart was getting closer, yet I kept my eyes down, pretending to be watching the ground instead of where I was running. My ears caught the warning shouts of the few other people lingering in this area, and all at once I catapulted myself onto the cart, clenching my eyes closed.

Wood splintered beneath my forceful body-slam and one wheel popped off entirely too cheerily and rolled a few feet before toppling over, leaving me to my bed of broken wood and gaudy jewelry and mediocre cloth. I emitted a pained cry of alarm before rolling off the cart and onto the street, clearly blinking back tears. People were shouting, the stand owner was cursing angrily along with a few others -- family members, most likely. Brol had stopped dead, unsure of what to do.

"Now look what you made me do, you big meanie!" I shouted, pointing at Brol, and rose with a wavering limp. "You're the worst dad ever!"

The look on the big ogre's face as those words spilled from my mouth was absolutely beautiful. Priceless. I watched the expression change from shock, to anger, to I-think-I'm-gonna-be-ill as the cart owner and family rounded on him, giving me plenty of time to slip away.

Haha, sucker. That man had needed a new cart anyway -- why not make such an upstanding citizen of Raelius like Brol pay for it?

I tried to hurry back in case Riku or the acolyte was still in trouble, but I really had injured my knee in that fiasco. It forced me into kind of a half-run -- the kind were you sprint about four steps, then walk quickly about four steps, and so on. As a result, I rounded the alley where we had left the acolyte just in time to see Riku crack a board over the leader's head from behind. Rather hard, too, the contact of wood-on-skull had almost made me cringe, and the larger male crumpled to the ground.

"We have to hurry," I heard Riku say to the acolyte, reaching down to pull him up. "Sora might--"

"I'm here!" I chirped, running over to them. Riku glanced at me, straightening, then smirked, but my attention turned with concern to the blonde acolyte that was pulling himself off the ground. His clothes was torn and he had a bloodied lip, but he seemed in one piece at least. "Are you alright?"

The acolyte was, indeed, the same one from the service, though his white robes were plain now and without the hood. His thick, golden hair was pulled into a high ponytail with two tendrils left loose to frame his delicate face, but even pulled up the sunny cascade fell a good length passed his smooth shoulders. He was collared, but not studded...and unstudded collar was for laborers instead of house slaves, which is what males generally were. It surprised me a little, though, since he was probably younger than I and didn't seem very strong at all -- certainly not fit for labor work.

"Y-yes, thank you," he murmured, one hand on the wall for support and the other clutching at his torn garments, and lifted his crystalline eyes. He caught sight of the silver hair that spilled around Riku's own shoulders (he must've lost his hat in the struggle with Banana Rot), and gasped softly in surprise.

"Mi direth!" the youth exclaimed, eyes wide, causing me to do a double-take and Riku to recoil as if slapped. "Lox par ter minin lukura--"

"Shh!" Riku hissed, pressing his hand against the boy's mouth. He glanced back at the street, but still no one graced our desolate road. There was a pause, the acolyte still regarding Riku in surprise, and then the Sorthien removed his hand and asked softly, "...Lox par teik damen?"

"Lusen..." the boy answered tentatively. He seemed very naive and young to me, the way he kept shifting with insecurity.

Something about the youth's answer seemed to strike Riku as funny, though, because he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk, relaxing. "Like the fox?"

"Schol..."

Needless to say, I was utterly confused at this point and slightly indignant at being left out of the conversation. So I cleared my throat slightly to remind Riku of my presence, and was awarded a glance from the older male. "Ah..." my silver-haired companion amended with a sheepish smile, "he says his name is Lusen."

"Yes," the blonde affirmed, moving from the wall and granting me with a friendly smile, which I couldn't help but to return. He didn't really seem like the same acolyte from the church...there was no slyness, no dark smirk...maybe a twin? "Thank you both for saving me. Perhaps I could give you something for your troubles?"

"Nah, we don't--"

"Like what?" Riku interrupted, raising a curious brow, and I nudged him in annoyance. Really! Wasn't there a generous bone in his body? But Lusen only smiled, unperturbed, and move to a corner created by the house and fence and began to go through a cloth bag (which I had mistaken for trash). He pulled out, much to my amazement, a gilded rectangular container, about the size of a mud-brick, and offered it to Riku. The top was engraved with Sorthish lettering -- a strange alphabet made up of lines and points. Riku took the box, unlatched it, and opened it just a little to peek in.

"What is it?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder as I tried to look inside. He promptly snapped it closed, though, denying me any hope of seeing the mysterious treasure, but I did feel a cold air wafting from the depths of the thick case.

"Where'd you get this?" Riku inquired, ignoring me, and Lusen shifted a little.

"...Katar supply convoy."

Again, my Sorthish friend smirked with amusement. "Stolen?"

But Lusen only shrugged a little, nonchalantly.

It was then that I glanced down in annoyance and noticed a far darker stain against Riku's black vest, complemented by a little slice that parted the cotton. "Riku!" I cried in alarm. "You're bleeding!"

"Eh?" He glanced at me, then the telling garment. "Ah...yeah, he knicked me a little. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about!" I grabbed his hand, pulling him back out into the street despite my avidly protesting knee. "You get daggered in the side, possibly barely escaping with your life and it's nothing to worry about? Come on, I know where we can go..."

Riku, surprisingly, allowed me to pull him along without argument, still maintaining a perpetual, relaxed smirk.

* * *

After finding Riku's hat and re-concealing his unconventional hair, I focused on getting us out of the city's slums. It was a considerable walk (I kept getting lost and felt too somber to ask for directions) before I finally found the establishment I was looking for. It was a large manor, though not quite as impressive as my own, and the familiar gates broke through the dark haze of my depression and caused me to smile. This was the world I knew...this was what I was familiar with. Wholesome cleanliness and luxury. Not collapsing buildings and putrid foodstuffs. But...that was a good thing. Here I could help people, I'm sure I could do something! I had always been encouraged to follow in my father's footsteps, but maybe...maybe war wasn't the answer. 

People were suffering...

"Um...where are we?" Riku cut in, interrupting my thoughts, and I flashed him an enthused smile.

"Just a friend's. We'll be able to take care of your injury here, and it's closer than my place."

"It's really nothing..."

But I ignored his modest protests and instead turned my attention to addressing one of the guards outside the gates. They knew me, of course, and -- after expressing their shock at my impromptu visit -- led Riku and I through the courtyard and into a sitting room. He kept casting me uncertain glances, but I just reassured him quietly. I was worried, though, and kept bugging him to let me see the cut, but he continuously denied me. And not even the most adorable puppy-pout I could muster would grant me the secret to the enigmatic box...

The sitting room was large and comfortable, the polished floors capturing the rouge light that entered from various wide windows and reflecting it in warm spectrums. I plopped down on one of the violet sofas with familiarity, but I noticed Riku examining the ornate paintings on the wall with curiousity and watched him for a few comfortable moments. He was silent, studying the composition of a series of hounds, hunters on horseback, a clever red fox, a serene lake scene...I wondered if he possessed an interest in art. What kind of art did they have in Sorthiel, anyway?

"Hey, Riku, wha--"

"Sora!"

A mahogany-haired female appeared in one of the three archways leading into other sections of the manor, and ran into the room. "What happened to you? I heard there was an uproar in the cathedral! They said you were attacked and carried off by an evil phantasm!"

"Kai--!" But before I could grant much of an answer she pulled me up, turning me around to make sure there was no blood staining my silver robes. "I'm okay, reall-- hey! Watch the knee, it hurts!"

It took me a moment to convince Kairi I really was fine and in one piece and not possessed or anything of that sort, and she finally sat down in an armchair facing my designated sofa. I sat down as well, grimacing a little from my sore knee.

"So...what happened?" She asked me concernedly, tilting her head slightly in that way of hers. I couldn't help but grin -- she's been visiting other family in Somne (our massive capital) for the last few months, so I haven't see her in awhile. Boy, did I have a lot to tell her!

But that smile quickly wavered, and I glanced down at my hands.

"W-well...I had my Cleansing, like you know, b-but...there was a problem..."

"No kiddin'?" She threw in as an attempt to lighten my mood, then fell respectfully silent so I could explain.

"Yeah...when I fell into the pool, I couldn't get out...like something was holding me there. Riku saved me."

Kairi seemed disturbed by my tale, and reflected on it for a thoughtful, sympathetic moment. She knew more about religious matters than I did, so her obvious seriousness was not reassuring at all. Still, after a contemplative moment she glanced back at me inquisitively. "'Riku'?"

"The 'evil phantasm', of course," Riku purred from behind Kairi's armchair, his arms folded against the firm, richly-colored back and looked down at her with a smirk. She emitted a startled yelp, not having noticed the Sorthien's presence, and immediately leapt up.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"No need to worry, Kai," I said, giving her a cheeky grin to calm her nerves. It seemed I wasn't the only one that liked to make Kairi have a near heart attack, and the thought caused me to snicker a little. "He's my friend."

At least...I saw him as a friend. And I was certain Riku must think the same, or he wouldn't have pulled me out of the water, right?

"A friend, you say?" Echoed another voice from the archway behind me. This voice was deeper, male, and caused me to wheel around on the sofa with a gasp. "My, Sora! What trouble you like to surround yourself with!

* * *

**Message of the Lady:**

_Open yourself to the nurturing power of the divine. This power will fill you with passion and the ability to be creative and to enjoy a life of abundance and sensual delight._

* * *

A/N: Oh, my! Who could it be? It could be this chapter's challenge! And I know the message doesn't seem like it fits again, but it'll make sense (or maybe I'm just making excuses for switching things from the original events I had planned...). v.v

**CHALLENGE: First one to correctly guess the identity of this mystery man gets the next chapter dedication! **He is a canon character and hasn't been introduced into the fic yet. This is more of a guessing game and I haven't left any clues, so I wasn't going to make it a challenge, but...I didn't have one planned for this chapter so I thought -- why not? You, my dear readers, can also strive for the contents of the box -- it's something you're all familiar with! But not necessarily something you'd consider a treasure, so I doubt anyone will guess it correctly. Since I adore all my readers, I'll give you a hint: it's something expendable. One time use only, folks!

Also, if anyone wants to contact me with questions, comments, or just to chat, you can catch me on yahoo messenger with the screen name **kitsune(insertunderscorehere)otome **or the livejournal sn** bharune**. Don't be shy -- I'm nice, I swear!

Thanks everyone for the reviews, everyone!

Bharune


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